Journey

And we walk onward. Into the fire waterfall. And it falls on us, burning yet refreshing, like some age old medicine that exposes and heals wounds. And it draws out the bitter drops of pain, and as it draws it seems so slow. But then the ashes start to fall away.

And as we just keep walking on, walking in deeper we suddenly realize that we are not alone. In fact we are with a Lion. And he gently looks at us. And we see that he is passionate this Lion, he always has been. Since we began the walk, he has been there. Suddenly we begin to realise, he has actually never left us. And his heart, this lion heart. It beats like a drum and he roars. He roars and he swipes his glorious victorious paw at any thing that comes up against us with such anger that we wonder. And sinking deep into our hearts is the realization that this Lion, he would do anything to keep harm from us. Anything. And as we walk we get tired. But we know, oh we know we must keep going. And suddenly we are sitting in rippling fur, and oh. He has put us on his back and he is carrying us. Deep, deep, deep and thick and soft and scented with love is his fur. Falling back, our muscles relax and we rest. And we start to cry but we don't know why except this rest is so sweet and we must cry with mingled surprise and joy because suddenly? We are home.

Start At The Beginning

If I could put into words the awesome faithfulness of my God this last year, then I would. But I said I would start at the beginning and so shall. New, that is what he makes everything and it is wonderful. Without renewal life would be so dreary and lacklustre, and so I stand here at the start and marvel at the seeds that are sprouting. Beholding the promises and knowing that only by his love I can completely grasp their meaning. Because it is his kingdom, his and only his that I want to live in. And I say that and I live another thing so often but I am determined to just keep looking up from myself and someday the looking down will fade and I will only stare into heaven. Not just times when the curtains are opened and then slowly draw closed again but an eternity of his glory. So yes he is faithful. And that is what I want to be.

Of Istria

The lavender scented stone house.

The hammock under the walnut tree, made the best swing replacement for a little girl who loves swinging of any kind.

The skies of Croatia, oh the skies. Such a beautiful blue.

On which the clouds arranged themselves differently everyday.

It was another world, where accordion music played from one of the houses in the tiny village and an old lady sat outside smiling with all her hard earned wrinkles at the children.

And where sweet sticky figs grew in abundance, not like the cursed fig tree of long ago. Thankfully.

Spain

Island in Spain. With blue sea peeking through the trees below the house, the heat seemed bearable.

Such a different feel to beaches back home, here it felt like Peter might just be spotted fishing in the bay.

I loved the buildings, with their warm clay coloured stone. And the dusty fields, with trees that despite the ground had green leaves. And the shuttered narrow quiet streets that seemed to have no life, but if you walked slowly you could hear the sound of people, escaping the intense heat by shutting themselves up in their courtyards.

And at night..

Sitting on the still warm rock, in the dusk, I drew close to Him.

Second Summer

Two summers. But such a different summer is this second one I am in the middle of. Of course some things are the same, the beautiful heat that lingers long into the evening, raspberries that hint of velvet, splashes, pools and glasses of water, shades of green you could never count. But the surroundings....

Fountains that have seen more summers than the people that drink from them.

Roses that scent the walls they climb.

Churches that people walk into day after day, churches that speak of centuries and architecture and skill. And I wonder. Do people realise you can meet him anywhere, that he isn't confined to ancient walls. God of the ages though he may be.

And I want to drain the cup that he gives me, but I don't realise it will never empty. Because his water never stops flowing and I sit still in this second summer, and drink.

Munich On A Rainy Day

Umbrellas everywhere.

Flowers don't mind the rain.

The always changing view from under the umbrella I hold.

Everywhere I walk in Munich turns up something new to make me take a breath. I have so much more to explore but my eyes are already so sated with beauty.

But I don't think you can ever have to much beauty. And Munich is beautiful even in the rain.
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This little fellow walked some of the way with me. So grateful for the one who always walks with me. His name is wonderful.

By The Lake

A week spent by a lake, in an ivy twisted, high storeyed house overlooking the white sails which echoed the clouds above. Swinging under the ancient fruit tree, feeding the swans that hissed imperiously when there was no more bread, sitting down to feastlike breakfasts. It was so lovely and then at the end a dashed visit to Switzerland, to see a friend's face. We sat with our toes in the Rhine, drank far to much coffee, and just revelled in the fact that we could catch up so far from home. God is good.